Yellow Summer Dress
by emlex04
Summary: A short story about a girl living during and after The Dark Days rebellion


Bree Mackay woke up to the sound of bombing. It was far away enough that the ground beneath her feet wasn't shaking but close enough that she could still hear it faintly in the distance. Sitting up in bed, she lifted the curtain a bit from the window next to her, but all she saw was darkness.

Bree crawled back under the cover of her sheets and tried to sleep. But whenever she came close to drifting away, the sound of those bombs would erupt outside, bringing her wide awake again. And when she finally managed to reach a deep sleep, she'd end up jolting back to reality, her dreams filled with the screams of people and the sight of Jason running away from her…  
Heart pounding, Bree got out of bed, unable to sleep. Her brown hair was a matted mess as she walked softly to the living room, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.  
"Can't sleep?"  
Bree jumped at the sound and turned to see her father standing in the hallway. He carried a candle with a flickering flame that highlighted the dark shadows under his eyes.  
"Yeah," Bree said shakily, just as another boom went off outside.  
"Sorry I scared you," her father said, before walking into the living room and collapsing onto a sagging couch. Bree settled down next to him and they listened to the world crumbling around them in the distance.  
"When will it be over?" Bree asked.  
Her father stayed silent for a moment. "Soon," he eventually replied. But his eyes looked tired and his voice was anything but hopeful.  
Bree's stomach felt numb with hunger; she hadn't eaten in days. "Do you think Jason's all right?" she asked.  
"He'll be fine," her father replied. "And so will you."  
Bree sank into the couch, her father's words doing little to keep her hopes up. She wished her mother were there to smooth down her hair and hold her in a bubble of blissful ignorance. But without her, Bree and her father were broken. Without her, the house felt empty and the sunshine that once dominated it disappeared.  
"I miss her," Bree whispered. She didn't have to elaborate for her father to understand who she was referring to.  
"I miss her too," her father replied.  
And the bombing continued throughout the night.

The Dark Days rebellion had begun months ago. But back then, it wasn't as serious. It was safe enough that Bree could still visit Jason in District 13, where he lived. It was safe enough that Bree's mother was still alive and safe enough that her home, District 12, had not been bombed.  
But it didn't stay that safe for long.  
Bree walked to the front door of her small home, her hair in a simple braid down her back. She opened the door to see a brown haired boy with a single white flower in his hand.  
"Jason," Bree said, smiling, as the boy tucked the flower behind her ear.  
"You ready to go?" he asked.  
"Sure," Bree replied, smoothing down her yellow summer dress. She shut the door behind her before they made their way to their destination, holding hands.  
As they walked, they went to various shops, picking out foods that they carried in a small box. That box of food would become the meal for their picnic. Bree chose cupcakes more than once and Jason picked out a loaf of soft bread. And finally, after more than half an hour, they reached a small clearing. The trees swayed softly in the breeze as the beautiful periwinkle blue sky stretched out above them.  
Bree collapsed onto the grass and laughed as Jason settled down beside her.  
"Had a good week?" Jason asked.  
"Well if it wasn't good before, it is now," Bree said.  
Jason smiled, opening their box of accumulated food. He took out a cupcake and handed it to Bree. "For you," he whispered.  
Bree giggled and took it, biting into it and relishing in the taste of chocolate. She could've sat there all day, eating those cupcakes with Jason by her side.  
But she only got the chance to have one bite.  
A boom sounded in the distance. Jason stopped what he was doing immediately, his right hand holding a cupcake in mid-air.  
The boom sounded again, closer.  
"Jason?" Bree asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry.  
A plane whooshed past just as another boom sounded in the distance. Jason turned to Bree, eyes wide in fear.  
"We have to go!" Jason shouted as another plane zoomed overhead. He grabbed Bree by the arm, lifting her up and leaving her barely eaten cupcake behind. Bree looked behind her to see the box of their picnic food shaking a little on the ground.  
"What's happening?" Bree shouted as the sky above them filled with more and more aeroplanes. They ran out of the clearing and into the forest, trees obscuring the sky that moments ago looked so quiescent.  
"I don't know," Jason said, out of breath. "But I have to keep you safe."  
They ran on, the sound of booming everywhere. Finally, they reached the more populated areas of District 12. They passed people who stumbled in all directions, every single one of them with the same scared look shared between them. They heard screams and they heard shouts. But still, they continued to run, dodging people who they did not know how to save. Jason's hand clutched Bree's, both their hearts pounding with fear. At that point, Bree's dress was smudged with dirt and her braid was starting to unravel. The yellow of her dress that once shone with happiness was a stark contrast to the fear etched on her face.  
They ran all the way to Bree's house before they finally stopped, panting. They stood for a while under the overhang of her house, getting their breath back.  
"I have to go now," Jason said, pushing Bree towards her front door. "But I want you to keep safe so—  
"Don't go!" Bree shouted, pulling on Jason's hand. "Please. Not now." Her voice was shaking and she was in hysterics as she pleaded to the boy she loved.  
"Bree—"  
"I don't know what's happening but I don't want you to be out there," Bree said, as the ground shook with each boom. "You could get killed."  
At this point, tears were running down Bree's dirty cheeks, the fantasy of a perfect day with her boyfriend falling away, down to a place where hopes were stripped to nothing. Bree wanted it all to stop, wanted this nightmare to end. She didn't want Jason to leave but she knew his family would be worrying about him. And still, the booming continued, tearing at her heart.  
"Bree," Jason said, just as another group of aeroplanes screamed overhead. "I need to make sure my family is OK. Especially Ella. She's only ten. Please."  
Bree stared at Jason, her hair plastered against her sweaty forehead. Finally, she wrapped him in a hug, tears streaming down her cheeks.  
"Be safe," she whispered as they pulled away. Jason wiped a tear from her cheek.  
"I'll be back," he whispered before kissing her softly on the forehead. "I love you."  
And then he was running away from her and into the unknown, back to his home in District 13. Bree watched him go before unlocking the door of her home — not bothering with knocking because there was so much noise around her — and bursting in. The first thing she saw was her father sitting in the only couch in their living room, his head in his hands. When he saw Bree, he looked up.  
"Bree?" he said as she locked the door shut. "I thought... I thought..." He broke down in tears before he could continue.  
Bree looked around before settling on the couch next to her father. "I'm all right," she said, holding him in a hug. "I was with Jason. I'm OK."  
"I'm so glad you're here," her father whispered as Bree looked around, searching for the other person she knew should be here, too.  
"Dad?"  
"Yes?"  
"Where's mum?"  
Bree's father just stared at her. "She didn't come back," he whispered, voice cracking.  
"What?"  
But Bree's father didn't answer. So she sat there, silent, her mind a haze. The image of Jason running away from her was clear in her head as she took this in. Her mother. Gone.  
"What happened?" Bree whispered.  
"It's the rebellion. The Capitol's bombing districts."  
"No," Bree said, even though she knew her words wouldn't be able to change anything. Her mother was dead. Jason was out there somewhere, in danger. And she was here with her grieving father, her throat tight.  
Bree's father didn't say anything more.  
They sat like that for a while longer until, finally, Bree's heartbeat settled back to a normal pace. The booming sounds — which Bree now knew were the sound of bombs —became less frequent, but they were still there.  
And they would still be there, weeks on in Bree's nightmares, taunting her and reminding her how little power she really had.

And now, the bombing had settled down for a few days. Soon enough, it was safe to go outside, and the first thing Bree and her father did was look for food. There wasn't much left, but at least they weren't starving. Things were getting better.  
But after one month, Jason still hadn't come to visit Bree. She worried about this profusely, her mind making up scenarios that could explain his absence, scenarios that kept her up at night. And still, two months on, he still hadn't come.  
Bree walked home from work to see her father looking as hopeless as he did the day when the first bombs hit District 12.  
"Dad?"  
Her father didn't look up and his shoulders slumped as he sat on the couch. "I'm so sorry."  
"Dad?" Bree walked forwards. "What's wrong?"  
"I'm sorry."  
"Please," Bree said, sitting next to him. "Tell me what's wrong."  
Her father looked up, his blue eyes cold and empty.  
"District 13 has been destroyed."  
Bree just stared at him. "That can't be true," she finally managed to say.  
"I'm sorry."  
Bree sat back, staring at the walls of her home. She couldn't believe it, didn't want to. But it explained Jason's absence perfectly and why there was a decrease in bombings. The bombs were all going to District 13. Jason hadn't visited for a month, and it wasn't because he'd forgotten.  
It was because he was dead.  
The tears came easily, running down Bree's cheeks to drip on the floor. And then, with that came her own anger and self-loathing.  
Because if Bree had stopped Jason from leaving, then maybe he wouldn't have tried to go home. Maybe, he'd still be alive.  
But her wondering wouldn't bring Jason back. Because no matter how much Bree thought about what she could've done, she still wouldn't hear his voice again. She'd only hear that sweet voice and that beautiful smile in memories that made her heart clench in a fragmented nostalgia.

On the day of the first Hunger Games, Bree woke up in with watery eyes, heart pounding with the things the Capitol had done. And now... now they were treating them as dispensable pieces in a game.  
And whether she liked it or not, Bree was in that game. She'd never contributed to the rebellion. All she'd wanted was to stay alive and be with Jason, but no, no, he was gone...  
At one o'clock, Bree walked to District 12's square, heart heavy. Her hair was in an intricate braid, the result of her wanting to get her mind off what was to come. She wore an old blue dress, the vivacious yellow one she wore on her last date with Jason unfitting for such an event.  
The rest of the process went in a hazy fog. The signing in, the waiting, the realisation of what was happening... everything was blurring together and Bree was there in the middle of it all, wishing that things had turned out different. Wishing that Jason would appear and hold her tight and tell her that everything would be OK.  
"Bree Mackay," a loud voice announced.  
The world sharpened from the blur it once was and Bree's thoughts focused. She knew what that meant. She knew that her name had been called and that she was one of the first ever tributes to compete in the Hunger Games. But she couldn't comprehend it. Her brain was like mush as she stood there, unmoving.  
"Bree Mackay," the voice repeated.  
Bree finally snapped out of her reverie and moved forward, out of the crowd. Then she walked up, onto the stage, next to a smiling woman holding a piece of paper with her name on it.  
The world blurred again. Bree was only slightly aware of the other boy who came up later on the stage, standing next to her. A boy, who she at first sight admittedly thought, not Jason. Not her Jason, so it was irrelevant. It was all irrelevant.  
And then it was over. Bree could not bear to think of her fate; she knew next to nothing about survival skills. And now, her father would lose another person he loved. So while Bree stumbled through the arena despairingly, he'd sit alone at home, in tears.  
But maybe this was for the better, Bree thought. Because Jason was gone. Jason, her everything. Why did it matter? Why should she care about anything if Jason was dead?  
Bree let them take her. She let them talk to her and she nodded even though she didn't know what she was agreeing to. The only time she cracked out of her haze of disbelief was when her father came to say goodbye. And then she was back to being stoic and doing things robotically, her mind far away from her body.  
And so, like a girl seventy-five years away named Katniss Everdeen, Bree Mackay stepped into the Hunger Games arena. Like that girl, Katniss, Bree did her best to survive. Even with the utter hopelessness Bree felt, she still did her best to live, for her father. But despite all she did to try, unlike Katniss Everdeen, Bree Mackay died in the arena.  
And a boy named Jason who lived underground in District 13 — the district which Bree had thought had been destroyed — cried, the memory of a beautiful girl in a yellow summer dress clear in his mind.


End file.
